


Ready to Lose

by dizzzylu



Series: Tumblr Fic [8]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5638624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack meets Señor Bunny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready to Lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aredblush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aredblush/gifts).



> Nas is apparently under the impression that if she draws [a thing](http://aredblush.tumblr.com/post/135568361042/%C3%A7a-va-monsieur-lapin-la-la-la-everything-is), I will write a thing. Somehow, it worked. She really IS magical!
> 
> (WHY isn't there a tag for Señor Bunny?!??!? Or is there and I'm a blind idiot?)

With the cooler in the car, there's nothing left for Jack to do but dust off his hands and take one last, long study of the Haus. It looks smaller now, empty and sad. Hollow in the way all houses are when nobody's around to breathe life into the walls. 

Shitty emerges from the door with his hair pulled back, sunglasses tucked into his tank top, and a case of beer in each hand. Jack rolls his eyes and Shitty shrugs. "Perks of being a senior, bro." He adjusts the Tetris puzzle in the trunk to make room and says, "We got everything? _Everything_ everything?" 

Ninety percent of their belongings are on a truck halfway to Boston by now, the rest of it is in the car, headed for the beach house they plan to decompress in for the next two weeks. Jack's pretty sure he packed up the most important stuff, and that even if he left something behind, Chowder would probably keep it in a hermetically sealed glass case until the opportunity arose, but it doesn't hurt to check either.

They both go from room to room, separate but together in their shared memories. Shitty can't stop himself from exclaiming, "Dude, remember when—?" every few minutes, making Jack chuckle to himself. "Yeah, yeah I do."

His stripped room is startling, even though it's been that way for a whole day now. Bare and institutional, waiting for Chowder to leave his mark. As he suspected, the closet is empty, the bureau, too. The only thing Jack finds is some looseleaf in the desk drawer and an extra USB cable. He leaves them both; Chowder will need them more, now. 

Out in the hall, he's faced with Bittle's door, wedged open a little, like always. He left a few days ago, quiet and solemn. Each trip down the stairs with a box like a funeral march with Bittle's big, sad eyes and his slumped shoulders. He put on a brave face later, with his tight good-bye hugs for everybody, but Jack heard a suspicious sniffle during his, and Bittle's smile after had a definite wobble. 

More practiced with good-byes, Jack gave his shoulder a firm squeeze and tried to shore up his own smile, to cover the pit gnawing at his gut, telling him this could be the last time, that he should say something now, _now_! 

As usual, it was Bittle who was brave, giving himself, and Jack's arms, a solid shake. "Alumni weekend," he said, following it up with a firm nod.

Jack echoed the sentiment and watched him drive away.

Now, in front of Bittle's room, Jack thinks he should check here, too. Make sure Bittle didn't forget anything. It'll still be his room next year, of course, but Jack tells himself it doesn't hurt to look anyway and pushes through the door.

The room isn't as stark and empty as Jack's, but he thinks that might be a Bittle thing; his warm, welcoming presence lingering long after he's left the room. The walls are bare and the bed's stripped, a bureau drawer is still halfway open, but it smells like Bittle, still. Cinnamon and sugar and a little bit like butter. His closet is empty and the desk too, the bookshelves bare except for the dust left behind. It's what Jack was expecting — Bittle is the most organized resident the Haus has probably ever seen — but still, there's a twinge of disappointment. Jack ducks his head to scold himself and— 

— and sees a weird shadow on the floor, in the narrow space between Bittle's bed and the desk. He stares at it, expecting it to coalesce into something recognizable, but the angle of the light is all wrong. He tells himself it's unimportant, probably a scrap of paper or a crumpled up recipe, but he crouches down anyway and wiggles around until the tips of his fingers brush against something soft and worn. He tweases it out slow and careful, and comes face to face with a dusty stuffed rabbit.

"À qui apparetenez-vous, monsieur lapin??" Jack murmurs into the quiet. He turns the rabbit over, cataloging wear and tear; one eye missing, the left ear more velvety than the right. It has no name on it, only a care tag faded away to nothing, but it feels like it could be Bittle's. Something beloved and missed. He's rubbing a little paw between two fingers when Shitty pops his head in the door, his smile bright.

"Señor Bunny!" Shitty says, reaching out a hand. Jack twists away, pulls the bunny close and rises from his crouch, thumb stroking the soft belly.

"You know what this is, then?" Jack asks.

Shitty flicks the closest ear he can reach. "Oh yeah, I've seen him on Bits' vlo— er, uh." He shrugs, his eyes turning shifty. "Y'know, we talk. Um, sometimes. I can't believe he left this behind. We should send it to him, save him a trip back." He makes to take the rabbit away again, but Jack clutches tighter, his mind flipping back two days. To firm hugs and a brave smile, big brown eyes and a bigger heart. Something warm blooms in his chest, and he glances up at Shitty, the weight of the rabbit in his grip comforting, almost familiar.

"How would you feel about a detour?"

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about French. A friend (not Nas) says it's correct, but I still worry anyway. Let me know if it should be fixed.
> 
> I'm [dizzzylu](http://dizzzylu.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Though, admittedly, I haven't been active there in quite a while.


End file.
